


The Prideful and the Prejudiced

by Ellisama



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, But Glenn is alive, F/M, For now at least. - Freeform, no beta we die like Glenn, questionable medical procedures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:21:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22109281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellisama/pseuds/Ellisama
Summary: It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife. So why is it that Felix Hugo Fraldarius doesn't want anything to do with Dorothea until she has a sword pointed directly at his throat?A Jane Austen-esque Regency AU about overcoming social expectations, flirting through sword-fighting and accidentally starting a revolution. Sometimes, all it takes to fall in love is a leap until you're swinging on the chandelier.
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault & Ingrid Brandl Galatea, Dorothea Arnault/Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Glenn Fraldarius/Ingrid Brandl Galatea
Comments: 16
Kudos: 72
Collections: Enabler's Gift Exchange





	The Prideful and the Prejudiced

**Author's Note:**

  * For [newmrsdewinter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/newmrsdewinter/gifts).



> Writing this story was a wild ride from start to finish! Written for our Discord's Secret Santa, Abby requested a Felix/Dorothea Regency AU and I delivered! I really tried to mimic the style and tone of the Jane Austen books, and if you recognize a line or two, it is because I shamelessly incorporated both their in-game supports and some famous Jane Austen quotes. I have no regrets.
> 
> Dear Abby, I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing this. Thank you for all the years we have worked, laughed and cried together. I feel blessed to have a friend like you in my life. Last but not least, I will write you that Hubert/Mercedes smut you requested one day when I am less of a coward, but that day is not today.

Dorothea raised her nose high in the air and painted the loveliest of smiles on her lips, keeping them shut at all cost. She walked with poise and grace, allowing the layers of her dress to flow with every step. All eyes were on her, as intended. As the Prima Donna of the Mittelfrank Opera Company, she knew the whispers that preceded her; that she was of common birth, a glorified prostitute that had no place at a party hosted by the crown prince of Faerghus. And yet, those same men vied for her attention, gifted her sweets and silks in the hope of her receiving her favor.

She smiled as the music began to play once more, and her partner invited her to dance with him. Mr. Gautier was a fine-looking gentleman; he had a pleasant countenance and easy, unaffected manners. More importantly, he was heir to the title of Margrave and worth a rumored 10.000 pounds a year. Of course, when things seem too good to be true, they likely are. Like her own, his reputation was well-known; a heart breaker and a dishonorable man who spoke words of love and loyalty, but never followed up with a proposal.

To some, that was a reason to turn away. To Dorothea, who had known the dreadful fate of being truly poor before since birth, it was nothing but a challenge. What else was she to do but to frolic with these men in their stately summer homes, waiting for winter to arrive and the opera season to start once more?

The song turned into a lovely waltz and Sylvain guided her gracefully through the steps with a handsome smile. For a moment she let herself imagine falling in love with him. The dream was thoroughly scattered when he deserted her for a different girl as soon as the song came to an end.

Determined not to let the loss show on her face, she elegantly turned towards the line of single men lining the wall. Granted, there were few of them and it would be improper to make her own introductions, so her options were limited. Very limited, it seemed, for the only young man she was acquainted with but wasn’t not dancing was Mr. Fraldarius the younger, Sylvain’s best friend. She had seen plenty of him during the past few weeks as Mr. Gautier’s companion, but every time they met he amazed her by souring her opinion of him even further. He was haughty and quick to lash out, and though his manners were well-bred in the company of his charming older brother - who was sadly married to a wonderful woman - they quickly fell to pieces once he was gone.

Still, she could not afford to look undesired, so she swallowed her pride and approached him all the same. “Come, dance with me. I hate to see you standing about by yourself in this manner.”

Felix didn’t even bother meeting her eyes, his gaze trained on the crown prince. “I certainly shall not.”

She refrained from rolling her eyes at him. “It is truly a pity that I am not giving you the option to decline.” And with that, she grabbed his hand and started gently dragging him towards the dancing couples.

“Unhand me, woman!” He all but yelled, drawing many unwelcome stares. Dorothea, not willing to be accused of even more sins than she already was by these fine people, honored his request.

“Why do you attend these parties, if you have no interest in participating in the festivities?”

“What is it to you?” Felix sneered back at her. “Don’t you have better things to do, like ensnaring a fool into marrying you?”

His words would not have hurt her pride if he hadn’t been right, but she would not give him the satisfaction of that knowledge. “Of course, I am just a silly girl with no thoughts in her head except for marrying a noble, and you are but part of my wicked schemes,” she said with a voice as sweet as honey, followed by a laugh. Whether it was at her own miserable fate or his expense, she knew not, but it seemed to startle her unwilling companion. “I merely am worried about your reputation. What will your father say when he hears that his youngest son insulted another foreign dignitary during a royal gathering, even as private as the one we’re attending?”

“I care not for my reputation nor my father’s opinion,” Felix sneered back, his eyes narrowed dangerously.

Was she not in polite company, she would have dug her heel into his foot. “Clearly. Had I a father, I would have cared a great deal, but I suppose those of us who have the luxury of a comfortable family and future have the right to judge those who do not,” she said and curtsied to him with as much mockery as she could muster. “Well, since you have made it abundantly clear I am not to expect anything of you, I shall leave you be. Goodbye, Mr. Fraldarius.”

Then, before she could make her artful retreat in the arms of a more willing gentleman, the doors of the ballroom were blown wide open, and a slew of armed men made their way inside. Dorothea held her breath: although her origin was not widely publicized, she was raised on the barren streets of Enbarr, the capital of the very same country Fhaergus had been at war with for years. She would recognize that redlined uniform anywhere.

“What is the meaning of this? How dare you interrupt a private gathering of the crown prince!” Lord Dedue exclaimed, but he was unable to demand any more answers, for he was quickly knocked to the ground and stabbed by a few soldiers.

The crowd erupted in panic before his large statue hit the ground and Dorothea felt he heartbeat in her throat, merely watching in shock as man after man was cut down, their supposed blue blood staining the floor red. The battalion of soldiers made quick work of the unarmed dancers, showing no mercy. It could only be called a massacre.

The screeching sound of metal against metal drew her from her stupor, and she whirled around only to find Felix unsheathing a sword as he pushed past her.

She grabbed his arm as he passed. “You idiot, do you intend to throw your life away so easily? We should run!”

The imbecile in question didn’t even look at her. “I can take them.”

“All of them? Don’t be daft, or this delusion will be your last.” She said and started to drag him away with all her might.

“Let me go! I must get to him before he does something stupid!” Felix thundered out, trying wiggle out of her grip. He was more slippery than his noble attire let her believe.

“Who?”

“The boar.” Dorothea stared at him blankly until he elaborated. “The crown prince, Dimitri,” he explained exasperatedly, his eyes searching the crowd, most likely for said young man.

Had Dorothea the time and luxury to marvel at a noble calling his superior such an atrocious name she would have indulged, but frankly, the severity of the situation left her no time to do so. Around her people young and old were dying for reasons they did not understand nor deserve. What she did understand was the calm that took over her, and the purpose that compelled her to act.

Without words, she wrenched the sword from Felix’s hands and swung it around once, twice. It was well-balanced, a bit heavier than her own rapier, but a beggar girl would make do with what was given.

“What are you doing! Give that back!”

“I will not. As I said, I will not let you go into certain death on your own.”

“Do you even know how to use a sword?”

She leveled the tip of the sword at his throat in one fluid motion. “Care to find out?”

For the first time she had met him, Felix met her gaze. His eyes were surprisingly intense, and even in the chaos of it all, she was surprised to find them handsome.

Unaware of her mental revelation, Felix nodded and drew his second sword she had not realized he had been carrying with him all this time. “Fine, you can come. But don’t think I will wait for you.”

Now that an understanding had passed between them, he led them into the fray. It had been years since she had seen serious combat. She had been taught stage fighting and self-defense, but she wouldn’t have survived on the streets with her virtue intact if she didn’t know how to fend for herself.

The streets of Enbarr, a royal summer palace in Fraldarius, it mattered little when lives were lost left and right. The first man to approach her with the intent to kill swiftly met the business end of her sword, once and again, until he fell to the ground. Aided by Felix, many followed. They cut a path through a battalion of red, soon aided by Mr. Gautier and Mr. Glenn and Mrs. Ingrid Fraldarius.

Felix moved like a deadly dancer, his eyes meeting hers every now and then, silently communicating where to go. They fought their way up the stairs, securing an escape route for a few young crying children.

From their vantage point, they could see oversee the fighting. The Crown Prince was nowhere to be seen, and the situation seemed dire. “We have to take down their commander or we will not win,” Dorothea remarked, heaving from the stress of the fight.

Felix didn’t respond for a moment. “I have an idea,” he then said and pointed his sword at the elaborate golden chandelier hanging from the ceiling right above the imperial commander.

“You cannot be serious,” Dorothea gawked as he climbed up the balustrade. “You can’t jump that far, and even if you do, it will not hold your weight!”

“I don’t joke, ever.” He held out his hand. “Come on, we don’t have time for this, it is our best shot. Trust me.”

Behind her, the fighting continued. “What do we have left to lose but our lives, right?” she remarked sarcastically, but took his hand all the same. With a surprising strength given his short stature, he swung her towards the chandelier. For a moment she felt like the heroine in one of her operas, soaring through the air by the power of the goddess. Perhaps it was Her blessing that allowed her to land smoothly on the golden chandelier, instead of falling towards certain death.

“What now?” She yelled back at Felix.

Instead of answering he leaped towards her, barely making enough air before falling down. She caught him, but only barely. His unconventional plan became apparent when the iron cable that attached the chandelier to the ceiling made a dangerous sound.

“You’re crazy, you know that!?!” she screamed at Felix as the cable gave out under their weight and they plummeted all the way down, right on top of an unsuspecting group of soldiers. Right before they could hit the ground she felt Felix draw her closer, protecting her with his own body.

The bodies of two unsuspecting soldiers broke their fall with a sick sound of cracking bone. Distantly, Dorothea knew that this would haunt her for many more nights to come, but there was no time for the thought to slow her down. She drew her sword again and rolled out of Felix’s arms, quickly stabbing an approaching soldier down.

“Are you fit to fight?” She asked when Felix did not get up immediately.

“Always,” he gritted out between his teeth. Now that she took a closer look, he seemed to be either in pain or enraged or both, his left-arm at an odd angle and eyes ablaze. She helped him up and together they made quick work of the soldiers trapped under the chandelier.

Dorothea restrained the commander while Felix held a sword to his neck. “Be a dear and call your men off, would you? My dear friend here has a rather terrible temper, I must confess, and it would be such a waste of such a fine gentleman such as yourself to meet the end of his blade, don’t you agree?” She whispered tauntingly into his ear, feeling like she was playing the role of a dapper heroine rather than the trembling girl she truly was.

Their gambit paid off, and the commander ordered his men to stand down. The fighting stopped quickly, and a disheveled Duke Fraldarius quickly took charge of the situation.

Dorothea felt the fight leave her body all at once, and she barely resisted the urge to drop to her knees and throw up. It was the sight of Felix stumbling out of the room that kept her from giving in, and followed him instead.

Now that the chaos had calmed down, she found him to be in a worse state than she had earlier remarked. His hair was bloodstained from a large cut near his ear, and besides his damaged arm, his leg seemed to be wounded.

It was nothing compared to the man he was cradling in his arms. Mr. Glenn Fraldarius was pale and unresponsive to the calls of his bride and brother, bleeding profusely.

She met Felix’s eyes again, and this time it was full of sorrow.

“Is he…?”

“Dead? Not yet, the fool. But he is not long for this world,” he said, his unkind words being utterly undone by the desperate trembling of his voice. Besides him, Ingrid, a woman who had treated her with nothing but kindness despite their difference in rank and station, was crying quietly.

Dorothea sunk to her knees, and carefully undid the fastings of Glenn’s bloody shirt. The wound underneath looked horrifying and deep,

“He put himself in between a lance and Dimitri,” Felix explained with a haunting voice as if his brother was already dead.

“And the prince?”

A dark shadow fell over Felix’s face. “He hasn’t been found yet.”

“We shall look for him later, then,” she said softly and looked around for a way to stop the bleeding. Her eyes quickly fell on the very same chandelier they had brought down, and the sword in her hands. “I’ll be right back.”

It took a while for the metal to heat up to the right temperature with merely a few candles, and Dorothea counted every second until she could return. Thankfully, Glenn seemed to be breathing still. “Now, this is going to hurt, but it might save his life. I need you to restrain him. He can’t afford to lose more blood.”

Felix eyed her blade with suspicion. “What are you doing?”

“I may be an opera singer, but my teacher is also an accomplished surgeon who, if not for the restrictions placed upon her sex, would have been a physician,” she said as she quickly cleaned the wound. “Trust me, as I trusted you.”

“Fine, what do we have left to lose but our lives, right?” He echoed her earlier statement with something that might have looked like a smile, had it not been so pained.

When the wound was as clean as it could be, she held the heated part of her blade above the wound.“Are you ready?”

Felix nodded and held Glenn. “Just… do it.”

Dorothea grit her teeth, and pushed the heated blade against the wound. The smell of burning flesh was horrifying, as was the strangled cry of her patient.

“There, it’s closed,” she said and lifted the blade, inspecting her work. It was frankly horrifying, but the bleeding had stopped. “I cauterized the wound. He’s not out of the woods yet, but it will give us time to get him to a doctor.”

That seemed to draw Ingrid from her stupor. She kissed her husband’s brow gently before a look of steel resolve settled over her features and she drew herself to her full height. She cut her elaborate but ultimately ruined ball gown in a way that was most improper. “I shall fetch Lord Rodrigue. You two stay here and watch over him,” she ordered.

Felix nodded. “Be careful.”

“I would say the same to you.” And with those words, she ran off.

For a moment it was just the two of them, with a dying man in between them. Felix’s hands were shaking all the same. Dorothea set to bandaging his brother’s other wounds, inspecting them one by one. She was far from a professional but her mentor’s idea of education had been thorough. She knew blood belonged inside a body, for a start.

“I…. apologize. For my words earlier.” He looked like the words cost him a limb to deliver past his lips, and Dorothea refrained the urge to laugh at the incredulity of it all. Mere minutes ago they had fought side by side, moving as one in a violent dance, and now he seemed afraid to talk to her.

“Thank you, it is appreciated.”

“For someone who’s only aspiration is marriage, you’re good with a sword,” he rambled on, perhaps as a way to keep himself from panicking, if his heavy breathing and trembling arms around his brother were any indications.

“Is this your attempt at flattery? Aw, it is, isn’t it,” she teased him if only to calm her battle-fried nerves a little. It was easier to fall back into a banter and let her hands work detached from her mind.

“Perhaps I had you all wrong. I did not think any lady other than my sister-in-law would have followed me into battle as you did. I… thank you. You.. don’t deserve what they say about you,” he added lamely, gently avoiding the fact that he had uttered those same words before.

It mattered little. Dorothea felt a strong sense of before and after in their relationship. Perhaps she had let her prejudice cloud her judgment. “I consider a comparison to Mrs. Fraldarius the highest of praise. And in turn let me thank you, for giving me the courage.”

Felix had the audacity to blush in a way that was most adorable and turned his eyes away. “You’ve set your sights on Sylvain. He is a good man, but he can be insatiable and cruel to women. Be careful,” he whispered after a while, surprising her.

“I know very well what I am getting into, worry not,” she said, and then sighed deeply. “Sometimes, the prospect of marrying an insatiable, unfaithful man with a reliable income is better than the alternative. I do not claim to love him, but as a woman of no consequence, I have very little choice than to chase a husband.”

Felix looked at her strangely. “What is the alternative?”

Before she could answer, they were interrupted by Duke Rodrigue Fraldarius himself storming towards them. “Felix! Glenn!”

Despite his earlier disdain for his father, it was obvious in Felix’s posture that he felt reassured by his arrival. “Father… He’s still breathing, but goddess knows for how long.”

The Duke nodded and regarded his bloodstained sons sadly. “You have both done your duty to the crown, I could not ask for more.”

Those words seemed to anger her companion for reasons she did not understand. Felix seemed ready to challenge his father to a duel, which was a spectacularly bad idea even without his damaged arm.

“Settle down! I have to set your arm,” she scolded him. He complied with obvious disdain when she checked his wounds. The one his head would scar, and unless it got infected his leg would not give him much trouble in the future. All in all, they had been very lucky. “Congratulations, your arm is not broken, merely dislocated.”

Before she could start setting it, Lord Rodrigue interrupted them. “I apologize, but are you a nurse, my lady?”

His words were innocent, but his tone revealed his true opinion of her. All good regard she held for the man was instantly replaced by a familiar distaste.

Before she could form a witty yet polite reply, Felix spoke harshly, his hand wrapped around hers in a most distracting way. “She just saved Glenn’s life by cauterizing his wounds while you were off licking the Dimitri’s boots, so you can start apologizing to her now.”

She was not the only one shocked by his outburst it seemed. “My apologies, my lady, I meant no disrespect. We owe you a debt of gratitude,” Duke Fraldarius said, and bowed deeply.

“Please, your Grace, Mr. Fraldarius, do not quarrel on my behalf. I must go now, and make myself proper again. Godspeed to your son, Your Grace,” she said uneasily and prepared to make a strategic exit. These men were too powerful to make enemies of.

The hand in hers tightened, refusing to let go. “Stay. I’m not letting my father set my arm.”

He didn’t meet her gaze when she searched for it, but she knew there was something else he was telling her she didn’t quite understand. In battle, their communication had been flawless. Without his sword, Felix seemed less adept.

“Are you sure?” She questioned him. “I’ve only done this once before, and it hurts.”

Felix rolled his eyes in a manner most impolite. “Do it, I can take it.”

“Felix…,” Ingrid chided him when she walked into their conversation, settling beside her husband once again.

He ignored her. “Do it!”

Well, perhaps she hadn’t been entirely wrong in her assessment of his pride. Regardless, she set to work and produced a handkerchief for him. “Bite down on this, and don’t move. Mrs. Fraldarius-”

“Call me Ingrid, please,” she interjected.

“Ingrid, then. Could you please restrain him? He seems like a terrible patient.”

Ingrid sighed deeply and did as she was told. “The very worst, I assure you.”

To his credit, Felix didn’t scream or yell when she set his arm with one calculated shove, although his gaze burned into her back while she worked. It was an imperfect job and he would feel it for the days to come, but that seemed insignificant in the face of the wounds of the man lying in between them.

Rodrigue himself turned out to have fought in the previous war as a personal guard and physician to the late King Lambert, and after the worst of the chaos calmed, he had his staff carried his unconscious eldest son to safety. Felix followed them uneasily, but not before a stiff bow in her direction.

Sylvain found her quickly afterward. He had been knocked prone during the fighting, but seemed mostly hale after some care from a kind woman named Mercedes. The lady friend with whom he had been dancing at the time, however, had not been so fortunate, and morbidly the thought crossed her mind that the corpse on the ground could have been her own.

The rest of the night passed by in a blur after that. Sylvain had her brought to her accommodations with his carriage, where upon opening the door Manuela nearly fainted at the sight of blood on her robes. They had been borrowed, and she would have to worry later how she would pay the hefty sum she owed the owner for the damages.

That night, after recounting the events to her companions, sleep evaded her. She couldn’t help but remember the once so happy nobles, bleeding and dying on the ground. Their dying cries haunted her, as did the war cries of the Imperial Soldiers who murdered them: ‘For the Empire.’

The Empire and Kingdom had been at war ever since the murder of the late King Lambert, four years ago by one of the empire’s allies, but the two nations had rarely directly attacked each other during the Regency of Archduke Rufus. They were formally at war, but Kingdom soldiers never set foot on Empire grounds and vice versa, until today.

As expected, that changed quickly when word came out that the Crown Prince of Fhargus had been taken during the turmoil of the fight, and was held captive by Adrestia. The ransom was no other than his Kingdom, to be formally granted to a supposed distant cousin of his, an imperial Duchess by the name of Cornelia. Naturally, the Regent did not agree to the ransom and instead called out for war. Within mere days the streets of the once quaint Fraldarius Duchy were filled with soldiers, and her fellow Opera Company members were making arrangements to leave quietly before their imperial roots were discovered.

\---

On the fourth day after the disastrous ball, a message for her arrived from house Fraldarius. To her great surprise, it was a personal invitation from Ingrid herself for a private cup of tea at the estate.

Dorothea would have declined if she could have afforded it, but instead, put on her most elegant daily gown, and fetched a carriage to Castle Fraldarius. The estate was as ancient as it was regal, and Dorothea hadn’t felt so out of place since arriving in the Duchy.

Ingrid welcomed her warmly when she was shown into the breakfast-parlor, where to her great surprise all but her husband were assembled. It seemed that Mr. Fraldarius the younger had not been informed of her expected arrival. He abruptly rose to his feet. Their eyes met, and Dorothea fought down the heat that crept up her face better than him.

She was received very kindly by the Duke, and although Felix contributed very little to the conversation, this meeting was miles ahead to all other social gatherings they had attended together before the ball earlier this week. The Duke seemed intent on thanking her, perhaps making up for his earlier behavior.

“My staff assures me that if not for your swift actions, my son would not have survived,” he said while offering her a cup of tea.

“It was merely my duty, Your Grace, as any would have done in my place,” she replied politely. “Has his situation improved at least?”

Ingrid regarded her sadly. “He has yet to wake, and his fever runs high. But he is alive and breathing still, so we must thank the goddess.”

Privately Dorothea disagreed, but kept her thoughts to herself.

They further discussed the state of the country. It seemed that Duke Fraldarius and the Regent were still negotiating with the Empire, now with the threat of a mobilized army to back them up. Dorothea wisely deflected any inquiries about the empire and feigned innocence. She was so very good at it.

Before long, the Duke finished his tea and excused himself to return to his duties to the Kingdom. Ingrid left to speak with her husband’s doctor, and then suddenly they were alone.

“Thank you for paying for my dress,” she thanked Felix. It had been a surprise when she finally worked up the courage to visit the lady of whom she had borrowed the gown, to find that it had been paid in full by the Fraldarius estate.

“It was Ingrid’s idea,” he countered uninterested. “Since you dirtied it in service of my family, it was our duty to compensate it.”

Dorothea smiled. He was rather adorable.“Then give her my thanks, also.”

A silence fell between the two of them as they sat together, merely drinking tea. Dorothea wished both with all her heart and not at all for Ingrid’s return, for being alone with a gentleman, even at bright daylight, could be quite scandalous if it ever came out. There was something wild in Felix’s well-bred features, something she had seen plenty on the streets but never before in a sitting room. It fascinated her more than she wished to admit.

“Sylvain told me you had refused his invitations since the ball. Why is that?” Felix surprised her by breaking the silence.

“I…..” Dorothea hesitated and was unaccustomed to such directness in noblemen. “Why are you asking? Is nothing sacred between gentlemen anymore?”

He met her gaze defiantly. “Was it because of what I said?”

Dorothea shook her head. “It was not, though I did take your warning to heart,” she said. It had taken her a while to understand that his words, although harsh, had come from a place of kindness. Once she understood that about him, he seemed less of an enigma.

“Then why?” He pressed on.

She did not understand his insistence, but any attempts of deflection were denied. In the end, she sighed deeply and checked the room. There were no servants, nobody but her and Felix.

“Can you keep a secret?” She asked him, her voice barely above a whisper.

Felix looked at her dubiously, but after a moment his curiosity won out and he nodded in consent.

“I was born in the Imperial Capital, as were most of the members of my troop. We’ve traveled all over the world, so I am hardly beholden to any place, but with the current political situation it did not seem prudent of me to attempt to court a Kingdom noble,” she admitted quietly. “Besides, in the face of the current mobilization, finding a suitable partner hasn’t crossed my mind much lately.”

He regarded her with wide guarded eyes, and for a moment Dorothea feared she had made a mistake in her judgment, and he would have her arrested within the hour. Then he merely nodded and looked away with something akin to a sadness she could not quite grasp the source of.

“Have you seen my latest performance?” She asked in an attempt to change the subject.

For a moment he seemed to be unaware of what she meant. “I have not. I rarely visit Fhirdiad, if I can help it, and I have little time for frivolities such as the Opera.”

Dorothea got the idea that somehow, at some point, she had hurt him without being aware of doing so, for his tone of voice had become more harsh with every sentence. Resolved not to get carried along in his uncivil behavior, she pressed painted a smile on her face. “And why is that?”

“I seek to grow stronger, to learn all and become a master in my own right.”

“A scholar, then?”

Felix considered her words for a second.“Of the blade, if such a thing exists.”

Even now, he carried an unassuming sword at his hip. Some men did so to look fashionable, but she had no doubt that his was as sharp as his tongue, if not more so. Then, another blade crossed her mind. “I never returned your blade to you, I just recall.”

“Keep it,” Felix interjected before she could say more. Then, his demeanor softened. “You… you fight well. I have plenty of other blades. My teacher seems intent to gift me every ceremonial sword she lays eyes upon, for reasons only the goddess knows.”

Such a peculiar man. Dorothea couldn’t suppress a chuckle even if she had desired to do so. “I shall treasure it then.”

Felix immediately averted his gaze, and muttered something under his breath she could not quite catch.

She continued to tease him more, delighted by his temper. He truly did blush quite adorably. But the time Ingrid returned, he was thoroughly flushed red, and quickly excused himself.

“What did you say to him?” Ingrid inquired as soon as he left the room. “I don’t believe I have ever seen him quite so red in the face.”

Dorothea laughed uneasily. “Oh, I merely made pleasant conversation with him, nothing indecent, I promise you.”

Ingrid believed her, and they spoke no more of it. When she left the estate later that afternoon, it was with a fondness in her heart she hadn’t felt in a long time.

\---

The next morning a letter arrived for her, but this time it was not written by Lady Fraldarius, but by Felix himself. His handwriting was frankly atrocious, and he had little need for flowery language. Instead of poetry, he wrote of a new sword his teacher had gifted him, of the situation in Enbarr as they knew it.

Another letter arrived two days later, once again short and without any decorum. He recalled an opera he had seen once as a child, one about the famous Kyphon and Loog, and asked her if she was familiar with the sword fighting style they used on stage, for it had intrigued him for a long time.

It was…. something. And this time Dorothea could not fail to reply in good graces. Her own letter was polite and proper for a lady, filled to the brim of theatrical swordplay versus actual combat arts.

He replied enthusiastically, although she would not have known it if she hadn’t met him beforehand. They exchanged letters of increasing length, and Manuela was starting to pick up on it. Her mentor was a kind woman but did not understand that their correspondence was nothing of the romantic or indecent sort. Regardless, she looked forward to his letters every day for as long as their stay in Fraldarius continued.

But as the days started to shorten that time was coming to a close sooner at an alarming rate and before she knew it, it was the morning before the company was set to leave, less than four weeks after her visit to Castle Fraldarius. She had seen Ingrid once since, but her brother-in-law remained elusive, although his letters more than made up for it.

Dutifully, Dorothea attended mass one last time before they left. She was not a particularly devout woman and going to church was more of a social function. While normally she used it to profile herself as an available single woman, the thought of courting was far from her mind with the war escalating as it did. Men in uniform marched towards the church, and Dorothea privately wondered how many of them would return. She felt on edge, uneasy in her skin, the blood that had long washed off her body still sticking to her hands.

When she saw the Fraldarius family attend without the eldest son in tow, she feared the worst. It had been little over a month, Ingrid’s husband should have recovered somewhat by now.

Reputation and propriety be damned, she made her way across the pews and seated herself among the nobles, right behind Ingrid.

“Is your husband still among us?” she asked over the scandalized whispers.

Ingrid smiled at her, though the deep circles underneath her eyes told a different story. “He is alive and responsive some days. The doctors are doing all they can.”

Which was a polite way of saying that there was little to be done at all. “I… will pray for him then.”

Ingrid smiled at her resolutely, not a tear to be seen. “Thank you.”

“Why are you two whispering so loudly? Just sit next to her, if you’re going to talk,” Felix interjected rudely and far louder than was proper.

“I….,” Dorothea stuttered.

Felix unceremoniously stood up and grasped her hand, all but pushing her to sit between himself and Ingrid. If people were whispering before, they certainly were now. For once, she cared little of their words. It was not unlike that time he had protected her from falling, she understood now.

“Thank you, for defending my honor,” she muttered to him.

Felix rolled his eyes. “I did no such thing, your honor needs no defending. And if it did, you could have done it yourself. Now quiet, I cannot hear the priestess speak.”

Before she could hiss a retort at him, he pressed a hand over her own. The sudden intimate contact startled her in its impropriety despite the fact that he had touched her far more intimately; when he threw her onto the chandelier during the fight two weeks ago and she had bandaged his wounds. Yet it was this soft, almost gentle hand-holding that made blood rise to her cheeks.

It wasn’t until she tried to pull away that she noticed that a small piece of paper rested between their linked palms. She nodded at him and swiftly stored it in her dress pockets. The tips of his ears were endearingly pink as well although she doubted anyone but her could tell.

After mass concluded she quickly joined Manuela and the rest of the troupe again, who kept shooting glances at her for her unbecoming behavior. With little effort, she managed to divert their attention with a flimsy albeit theatrical explanation of a deep connection forged between her and Mrs. Fraldarius after suffering through the same traumatic experience. They would have chided her more if not for the present company and their scheduled departure tomorrow.

\--

It wasn’t until they returned away from the public eye in the safety of her rented chamber that Dorothea dared to unfold Felix’s note. It seemed hastily written and raised as many questions as it answered, if not more.

It read: “Tonight, Dusk, apple tree behind Saint Chicol’s church. Come alone.”

As soon as she read it four times to ascertain that indeed the note existed, she burned it lest one of her companions read it and assumed the worst about her virtue. She debated going, but when the summer sun set and they finished packing the last of their belongings and their final farewell performance for a local lord, Dorothea found her feet had made up their mind without informing her mind at all.

“You’re late,” Felix chided her when she arrived. His aloof air was countenanced by the fact that she had seen him pacing around the tree before she approached him.

Dorothea curtsied to him out of spite, ignoring the way the light of the dying sun complimented his features. “If you desired me to be on time, then you should have accounted for my schedule. Not all of us are noble-born men without obligations, you know.”

Felix muttered something to himself she could not quite catch.

“What was that?” She asked, coming closer. Their rendezvous was already quite scandalous, although she doubted Felix realized that. He seemed oddly unaware of social conventions, or if he was aware of them, he disregarded them.

At least, that had been her assessment so far. The blush that crept up on his cheeks for no reason surprised her, as did his words: “Ingrid told me you were leaving tomorrow.”

“That is correct.”

“Why? The roads are hardly safe.”

“I would think that by now I had proven I am quite capable of defending myself, my lord,” Dorothea deflected skillfully. “Besides, with what I told you of my origins, you must understand our haste.”

Felix stomped his feet on the ground quite childishly. “Don’t call me that! You used my name before, so you obviously know it.”

Dorothea rolled her eyes. “Alright then, Felix,” she enjoyed the way his eyes widened when his name rolled off her tongue in a most salacious manner. “Why did you call me here? You must realize how this must look, an unmarried nobleman proposing illicit meetings after dark with a woman of my profession.”

Felix looked insulted on her behalf. “I care not for my reputation. Let them speak their lies.”

“Be as that may, but I do care about my reputation. I have little less to rely upon, after all,” she sighed. “Please Felix, I have little time. Let us not dance around each other, as you know we leave in the morning. I still have to pack a few things.”

He fiddled with the hilt of his sword for a moment. “That is why I asked you to come,” he said then resolutely. “Ingrid, Sylvain and I are leaving tonight, along with a few friends, before dawn.”

Dorothea’s breath caught in her throat.“Leaving? Where to? Why?”

“My father and the Regent are trying to negotiate with the empire but they don’t see that the Emperor is a mere puppet to his senate, who in turn will rather kill Dimitri than bargain him off,” he explained, a depth of emotion whirling in his stormy eyes. She had never heard him utter a positive word about the Crown Prince, but there must have been more to their relationship because his voice was one of a man willing to risk it all. “We’re not waiting for that moment to arrive.”

“So what are you going to do, march to Enbarr and steal him back? If that is even where he is held captive at all?” She asked with an incredulous laugh, but her smile quickly fell when he didn’t supply an answer. “You don’t have a plan, do you? You truly are reckless. How have you survived this long, if all your actions are essentially just rushing in and praying to the goddess it will work out.”

“We’ve come into contact with our old teacher, who knows the roads better than anyone. I trust her leadership,” Felix said, wrinkling his nose. “I’m going, and neither you or anyone else can stop me.”

That much she had gathered. Suddenly, his warm coat and the three swords attached to his belt were starting to make sense. “What about your brother?” She tried instead. “Shouldn’t you wait at his side until he improves?”

“There is nothing I can do for him, save for his duty. And the duty of a Fraldarius, as much as I despise it, is to protect the Royal family. My brother at least understood that, unlike my father who believes that waiting and praying to a dead King is will restore order to this country. Pathetic,” he spat out.

“A duty that almost cost your brother his life. How will you be different?”

He met her gaze unflinching. “I won’t fall, I promise you this. I will return to you.”

Despite her many lessons in proper decorum, she couldn’t stop her mouth from falling open at his words. “Felix….?” she questioned carefully.

Felix averted his eyes, fiddling nervously with the hilt of his sword. “I… was hoping that I could continue writing to you. My father will most likely disown me for my disobedience once he finds out what I’ve set out to do, so there is little left for me to return to even if my brother should ever recover.” He swallowed visibly before continuing, a blush heavy on his cheeks despite the cold of the impending night. “I…. You fight well, and you’re…. something else. When Sylvain said you refused him, I…. dared to hope that perhaps it was because you had considered other, less desirable alternatives.”

Dorothea licked her lips nervously, her heart beating ferociously in her chest. “Alternatives such as yourself?”

Felix still refused to meet her gaze but the blush highlighted in the pale light of the moon answered her question for him. “Not that it matters, as you have stated, you no longer desire to court a Kingdom noble. I apo-”

She stepped in, and raised a finger to his lips, instantly silencing him. “Felix, hold on.” There was a certain joy in seeing him silenced with a single touch. “I was under the impression you barely tolerated me, so you must excuse me for not immediately responding.”

His eyes swept over her physique in an uncharacteristically boyish fashion. “I… find you rather tolerable.”

Dorothea couldn’t help it. She laughed without any care in the world, feeling a little bit delirious herself. “You’re not so bad yourself. I misjudged you. I thought you to be haughty and distant, too prideful to throw your lot in with the less fortunate common folk.”

“If that is what you think if me, I have my answer.”

She gently swatted him on the cheek, more affectionately than anything else. “Oh shush. That is what I thought of you, and frankly, you gave me little opportunity to change my mind. But I will admit that my opinion of you had been colored by my prejudices. I shall not lie to you, I have suffered greatly at the hand of men and nobles alike, so I am rightfully wary of them. But you are unlike them.”

There was a hunger in his eyes not unlike the one she had encountered on the streets, a desperate edge that only barely filtered into his voice. “Then… will you stay here? Can I write to you?”

“Is that your way of proposing marriage to me?” She joked, and his lack of reply was all she needed to know. Goddess above, why was she always attracted to silly men like him? “In which case my answer is no, I will not stay here and be your dutiful fiancé, awaiting a return that may never come. And although you may write to me, I see little need for letters.”

“Speak plainly, you’re giving me a headache,” Felix growled at her, his gaze never leaving her lips.

Without thinking, she took the final step towards him, drawn by the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, and her insatiable need to snuff it out before he could retreat again into his shell. The distance between them was improper and wonderful and for once Dorothea felt as free of the shackles of social norms and customs as he was.

“You will need a guide in Enbarr, am I correct? My mother was a lady in waiting to the Dowager Empress before I was born out of wedlock. I spend my first few years in the palace, and the rest of my childhood on the streets. You will find nobody more suited to retrieve your beloved Prince Charming,” she offered with a wicked smile on her lips.

He grabbed her shoulders roughly. “Are you certain? You have no duty to this country, nor would following me gain you any honor or status.”

“I have played the daring heroine in many plays, and always wondered that if destiny would call my name one day, I would heed its call or turn my back on it,” she explained. “I will not lie to you, as you have always been truthful with me. I am scared for my future. But every night I lie awake, trying to wash the blood off my hands that no longer stains them, wondering if soldiers will invade my room tonight or tomorrow. And I find that the anxiety of waiting in terror is far worse than the price of my already damaged honor.”

She reached out to him, their hands meeting as well as their eyes. He was cold, yet his gaze burned so warmly as an understanding passed between them, this time not forged with blood and battle, but under the calm light of the crescent moon. Her heart beat no less intensely.

“So yes, to answer your question, I am very certain. As I said, I will not let you go into certain death on your own.”

There had been a distance between them, both physical and not, Dorothea was sure of that. She could not pinpoint the moment where it seized to be, define the moment where he dove in and his hands circled her waist, and finally, his lips descended upon her own, pressing clumsily yet with an earnest passion that made her stomach twist delightfully.

Why were her hands moving on their own, twining into his hair until it came undone? Why was she kissing him, and worse, why was this rough novice attempt at romance the most intimate she had ever felt with a man in her life?

Before she could resolve any of her questions, he parted from her. “You’re crazy, you know that?” He said with a roughness to his voice that solidified the tremor running through her limbs. His breath ghosting over her own, the deep amber of his eyes darker than she had ever seen it. There was lust, perhaps, but also uncertainty and something she had never quite seen directed at herself.

She laughed, but for once it was liberating and sincere. “Stop stealing my lines!” She exclaimed, soaring on the delirium that he had awoken within her, and drew him in again.

She guided him this time, licking his lips until he rewarded her with a sound that made her hunger for more. Her heart raced in tandem with his own, and to the sweet orchestra of their pulse, they kissed until the world stopped spinning, if only for a little while. It was everything her songs had led her to believe, and yet nothing like it at all.

When they parted he grasped her hand and squeezed it tightly, as if to reassure himself that this was real. “I will not share you, do you understand?” He threatened in a most endearing way, his face flushed in a deep shade of red.

Dorothea laughed deeply and squeezed back. For a woman who was about to throw her entire future away for the sake of a madman’s quest that would probably kill her, she felt surprisingly lighthearted. “I did not agree to marry you! I agreed to join your crusade for the future of your country and the fate of your beloved Prince!”

“And I did not propose,” he countered in a matter-of-factly way that both infuriated and enamored her.

Feeling daring, she stole another kiss from his lips, enjoying the surprised look in his eyes when she did. Oh yes, she was definitely keeping this one.

“Yet,” he amended quickly, earning himself a quick giggle as they parted. “Come on, gather your belongings, and meet me here at dawn.”

The loss of his arms around her felt embarrassingly devastating, her knees surprisingly weak. Slowly but surely the reality of what she had just promised to do set in. Her mind started to race and she began to mentally compose a letter to her mentor as well as a list of items she would have to take with her.

The future was uncertain but for the first time in her life, it felt like it was truly her own. While she entangled her fingers with Felix’s, it was neither regret nor anxiety she was feeling at the prospect of their undoubtedly hazardous journey together.

No, it was an entirely different emotion altogether that was growing steadily to the beat of her fast-beating heart. Above her, the starry sky seemed to sparkle brighter than it had ever done before.  


**Author's Note:**

> This story was such a wild ride to write because the characters really took the wheel and twisted what had originally meant to be a short Pride & Prejudice rip-off, into an action-packed premise for a larger regency story. What can I say except, Felix is sword-sexual and Dorothea tends to fall for all the wrong men. 
> 
> Notes on the setting:  
> \- The time frame, language, habits, and social issues are mostly borrowed from the British Regency era to the surprise of absolutely no one at all. Imagine the Kingdom to be the equivalent of it. As Dimitri is still a minor, his uncle is the Regent of the kingdom until he comes of age. Adrestia is despite it’s obvious allusions to Prussia, also a mix of Napoleonic France.  
> \- This is Academy Era, so Dimitri/Ingrid/Felix are all 17, which probably explains a few things about their behavior haha. Dorothea is 18 and Sylvain is 19. Glenn, as per my headcanon, is 6 years older than Felix, making him 23 at the time.  
> \- As it turns out, opera singers were regarded quite badly by high society during the regency, hence the harsh treatment Dorothea suffered.  
> \- Because TWSITD are a legitimate government rather than a secret society, they’re slightly less shady. Because of that and the absence of crests in this AU, Edelgard and Lysithea’s story changes dramatically.  
> \- Subsequently, the tragedy of Duscur was an assassination like the one in 1914 at the start of WWI. As a result, Glenn and Dimitri live, Duscur was still blamed, and everyone is still pretty traumatized.  
> \- Ingrid and Glenn were married as soon as she turned 16 after a long engagement, arranged since their infancy.  
> \- Sylvain has issues unrelated to his non-existent crest, but rather to the expectations placed upon him by society, his rank, and a certain arranged marriage.  
> \- Since Glenn is alive and Dimitri is slightly less suffering from rabies, his relationship with Felix is better, though still pretty complicated  
> The mentioned teacher is, of course, Byleth, the daughter of a knight turned holy woman who teaches who privately tutored the Blue Lions in various subjects.  
> \- Dedue is alive, of course. I could never kill him off.  
> Medical care was terrible in this era and I got a headache from researching it. Nurses did not exist back in the day, so there is a historical inaccuracy there when Rodrigue calls Dorothea one but I guess Florence Nightingale came a few centuries early in this AU.
> 
> I really wish to write a spin-off from Ingrid’s perspective which details the road trip (including all of the blue lions + Dorothea and some inevitable stragglers they pick up), because if anyone is a perfect Jane Austen protagonist, it’s her. There is still a lot more to be told here: like what happens on their road trip, what is up with Edelgard, Dimitri and Claude, and why the attack in the ballroom happened at all. Dorothea’s perspective is very limited in the sense that she doesn’t know a lot of background between the childhood friends, so a story from Ingrid’s perspective could change that. But to be honest, this story was already such a wild ride, that I had to end it somewhere. 
> 
> If I haven’t sold you on this pairing (despite the not so subtle Dorogrid and Dimilix undertones because honestly, bi rights) then I haven’t done my job.


End file.
